


CAPTAIN AMERICA IS NOT IN THIS FIC

by Marvelite5Ever



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Wolverine (Comics), Young Avengers
Genre: CHARACTERS ARE OOC BECAUSE CRACK, Gen, LOTS OF CAPSLOCK, LOTS OF RANDOM CAMEOS, LOTS OF RANDOM REFERENCES, OOC, TOTALLY AND COMPLETE CRACK, This is utterly ridiculous, crack!, crackity cracky crack, utter crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelite5Ever/pseuds/Marvelite5Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade Wilson literally disengages from his head. </p><p>Lots of other characters show up. But not Captain America. </p><p>And not Hercules or Iceman, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	CAPTAIN AMERICA IS NOT IN THIS FIC

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S 4 AM AND I CAN'T SLEEP
> 
> I THINK MY BRAIN IS BROKEN

* * *

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” Wade yelled, running around with his severed head under his arm. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU HATE ME BACK YOU BASTARD?!”

His body answered by drop-kicking his head as hard as it could. 

“I CAN FLYYYYYYYYYY!” Wade screamed as his head sailed up, up and away. 

Wade's body brushed its hands together, turned around and started walking in the opposite direction. 

“WADE WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” Nate roared as he descended from the sky via transparent blue wings. “STOP SCARING THE LOCALS AND GET YOUR HEAD SCREWED ON STRAIGHT!” 

Wade's body pulled out a gun and started shooting at Nate without looking, continuing to walk—also without looking. 

“WADE GO FETCH YOUR HEAD AND PUT IT BACK ON!” Nate roared at him, hiding behind his transparent blue shield that shielded him from all the bullets. 

“I AM NOT A DOG AND YOU ARE NOT MY MASTER!” yelled Wade's head as it floated over via its mutlicolored propeller hat, glaring at Nate as blood dripped form its severed neck. “YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” 

“WADE WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Nate demanded, still getting shot at by Wade's body and the machine gun with limitless amount of ammo. “WHY DID YOU BEHEAD YOURSELF AND WHY WON'T YOU JUST GET BACK ON YOUR BODY ALREADY?!” 

“BECAUSE WE HATE EACH OTHER,” Wade's head told him, rolling its eyes as it hovered there, the propeller on the top of his head whirring and whirling and whirring some more. “DUH.”

“THAT IS NOT AN EXCUSE,” Nate yelled at him. “NOW PUT YOURSELF BACK!” 

“BUT MOM I DON'T WANT TO,” Wade's head retorted, sticking out its tongue at Nate, while Wade's body flipped Nate the bird. 

And then Wade's body promptly walked straight into a pole and fell down. 

The barrage of bullets stopped, and Nate let down his transparent blue shield, glaring, the scars over his right eye like spider legs, his left eye shining like a fucking lighthouse beacon on a dark and stormy night. “WADE. PUT. YOURSELF. BACK. NOW.”

Wade's body tried to rub his head where he'd hit it on the ground—only for his hand to go right through air, because his head was floating in the air twenty feet to the left and ten feet up. 

“HEY!” Wade's head protested. “How come my body gets to be a 'he' while I have to be an 'it'?! Just because my body got all my male parts doesn't mean that my brain and me aren't a guy! And at least one of the two voices in my head is a guy, too! SHUT UP YELLOW!” Wade's head shouted, beginning to spin in circles in the air, the propeller on its head whirring. “WHITE AND I BOTH KNOW YOU'RE FEMALE. AND IT'S YOUR FAULT WE ALWAYS END UP IN PINK LINGERIE AND DRESSES AND LONG WIGS AND HIGH HEELS AND YELLOW FUCKING PANTIES. YOUR. FAULT.” 

“WADE GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!” Nate yelled at him, from where he was kneeling on the ground next to Wade's body and trying to take its pulse—for some reason the neck pulse wasn't working, but the wrist pulse was. 

“WHO ARE YOU, MY MOTHER?!” Wade's head demanded, spinning around to glare down at the huge, hulking mass of messiah. “ALSO I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF AN ARGUMENT. IT'S RUDE TO INTERRUPT, YOU KNOW!” 

Wade's body raised a hand. “Hey, why does everyone keep talking in capslock? I think it's rather unnecessary.” 

“YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE VOCAL CHORDS SO YOU CAN'T TALK!” Wade's head yelled at his body. 

Nate actually looked slightly less pissy and slightly more amused than he had about six seconds previous. “Your body can talk when it knows American sign language, apparently.” 

“QUICK, CUT OF HIS HANDS!” Wade's head cried, glaring down at the signing body, who was complaining about how fucking dark it was and why didn't somebody light a flamethrower or something already seriously. 

“I'm not cutting off your hands, Wade!” Nate said, glaring. 

“I'D DO IT MYSELF IF I COULD HOLD A SWORD!” Wade's head said, rolling his eyes. “OR JUST HANDCUFF HIM OR SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW.” 

Wade's head spun around in the air and began hovering away in the opposite direction. 

“Oh no you don't,” Nate said, jumping up like a pro basketball player to grab Wade's head out of the air, landing and then walking back over to Wade's body, sticking the head onto the severed neck. 

“NO STOP IT WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” Wade's head yelled, while his body signed the exact same thing. “I HATE THIS GUY! I WANT MY FREEDOM! I AM SIGNING A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE! WE'RE HAVING A REVOLUTION! A CIVIL WAR! LEAVE US TO OUR WARRING IN PEACE!” 

“No, I will not let you war in peace!” Nate said, holding Wade's head on his neck until the flesh reattached. 

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Wade cried, hands scrabbling at his neck, only for his wrists to be grabbed and held away from his neck in Nate's firm grip. “WHAT HAVE YOU DOOOOOOOOONE?!” 

“I stuck your head back on,” Nate said gruffly. 

“YEAH, YOU STUCK MY HEAD BACK ON _BACKWARDS!”_ Wade yelled furiously, tearing himself away from Nate and standing up, trying to run off to grab his katanas where he'd left them after cutting his head off the first time—only to fall down immediately, because of the confusion of trying to walk forwards while his legs were backwards. 

No, wait—trying to walk backwards while his legs were forwards. 

“FUCK THIS IS SO CONFUSING!” Wade shouted, stumbling unsteadily to his feet again, arms flailing wildly as they flailed backwards—no, forwards—while he tried to flail them in front of him—except that his front wasn't actually as his front, and—“SO FUCKING CONFUSING OH MY HOLY TACOS! IT'S LIKE ONE OF THOSE DAMN COMPUTER CAMERAS WHERE YOU MOVE LEFT AND YOUR IMAGE MOVES RIGHT AND YOU MOVE RIGHT AND YOUR IMAGE MOVES LEFT! EXCEPT THAT INSTEAD OF JUST LEFT AND RIGHT MIXED UP, BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS IS MESSED UP, TOO!” 

“Wade, just calm down!” Nate yelled at him, totally inspiring calmness. Totally. 

“I AM CALM,” Wade yelled, flailing and lurching like a dead thing that was quite dead despite the fact that it refused to believe that it was dead. 

Wade fell over, onto the back of his head. “I AM VOLDEMORT ON THE BACK OF TURBAN-GUY'S HEAD. I AM TOTALLY FUCKING CALM. SO FUCKING CALM I COULD WATCH _THE TITANIC_ WITHOUT CRYING.” 

“Screaming instead of crying does NOT make you calm!” Nate said, trying to grab Wade, only to be bopped in the face by crazily flailing limbs. 

And then there was a _KRAAAA-KOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!_

And down from the heavens descended Chuck Norris! 

“THAT IS NOT CHUCK NORRIS!” Wade shouted, flailing and walking forwards into the pole again, hitting the back of his head and stumbling backwards to land on his face. 

“OF COURSE I AM NOT CHUCK NORRIS! MY NAME IS STRYFE!” Stryfe yelled, descending from the heavens on a transparent blue surfboard, because apparently the Silver Surfer was the Galactic Trendsetter of the Week (the week previous the Galactic Trendsetter of the Week had been Nova, and all the Cool People had been walking around with buckets on their heads). “YOU KILLED MY FATHER. PREPARE TO DIE!” 

“YEAH?” Wade asked, flailing to his feet and grabbing the pole out of the ground—because extreme clumsiness gave him Awesome Leverage Powers, because the Universe likes things to be Fair like that—and wielding it in Stryfe's general direction. “WELL MY NAME IS INIGO MONTOYA! YOU STOLE MY LINE! PREPARE TO DIE!” 

“I don't take people with their heads screwed on backwards seriously,” Stryfe scoffed, tossing Wade through the air with a simple flick of his wrist. 

“WHICH WAY'S UP AND WHICH WAY'S DOWN?!” Wade wailed as he sailed through the air, getting smaller and smaller as he got farther and farther away. “IF I CAN'T TELL WHICH WAY I'M FALLING THEN HOW AM I TO BE THE CAT I WAS BORN TO BE?!” 

“Ignore him,” Nate drawled, looking at Stryfe and wearing an unimpressed eyebrow. “First of all, I didn't kill our father. Second of all, I don't take people with dead pigeons impaled on their suits seriously.” 

“WHAT,” Stryfe said, looking down, to see that apparently, while he'd been flying through the air on his super trendy surfboard and had flown through a flock of pigeons, they'd gotten impaled on all the spikes on his suit. 

There were four pigeons impaled on his helmet, two pigeons impaled on each shoulder, six pigeons impaled on each arm, and three pigeons impaled to the front of each of his thighs. 

There was pigeon blood all over the silver armor. 

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Stryfe cried, falling to his knees, looking up at the sky and wailing. “MY ARMOR IS COVERED IN THE BLOOD OF PIGEONS!” 

“No duh,” Nate said, crossing his arms. He looked SO unimpressed that he name spontaneously expanded to become Nathan Unimpressed Dayspring Askani'son Summers, and would remain that way for the next thirty and a half years. 

Nobody ever figured out how the name appeared on his birth certificate, but it did. 

It was unanimously decided that Scott Summers hadn't been able to handle the stress of being psychically linked to the mind of his telepathic wife while she was in labor, had had gotten himself drunk. 

“I WILL NEVER BECOME A GALACTIC TRENDSETTER OF THE WEEK LIKE THIS!” Stryfe lamented, curled hands falling to the ground. 

“No, I daresay you won't,” Nate Unimpressed Summers remarked, smirking. “And now you know why I always win, and you are fated to lose every battle between us.” 

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Stryfe wailed. “LIFE IS NOT FAIR!” 

“No, it's not,” Nate agreed, laughing in delight. “Isn't it wonderful?” 

“EAT WATER!” Wade suddenly cried, jumping down from a cloud with his head screwed on straight and wearing a Firefighter hat, a huge water hose in his head as he blasted Stryfe with the high-pressure water, washing all the blood and dead pigeons away. 

The water would have washed Stryfe away, too, had he not become leaden with sorrow. But his armor of misery kept him quite safe from the detrimental effects of the water blasting him in the face, simply because he couldn't be bothered to care. 

The water stopped, and Wade looked up to give a thumbs-up to Zeus, who was sitting on the cloud with his trusted fire hydrant beside him. 

“Thanks, Zeusy!” Wade grinned, tossing him back the hose. 

“Anytime!” Zeus grinned, waving a hamburger. “Just as long as you always remember to pay your weight in hamburgers!” He gestured to the huge back of fast-food take-out sitting next to him. 

“If Hercules finds your stash again, I am totes not responsible!” Wade warned him as Zeus started floating away on the cloud, which was branded with the number nine on its fluffy, water-droplet hide. “The oven is an awful spot for hiding hamburgers, I warned you!”

“Don't worry, I'll hide them on top of the refrigerator this time!” Zeus replied, chuckling as he untangled lightnings bolts from his hair. “He'll never be able to reach them there!” 

And then Zeus zoomed off on Cloud 9. 

Wade scratched his head. “I think Zeus is getting senile, if he thinks that Hercules is still too short to reach anything on top of the refrigerator.” 

“Do I WANT to know why you're buddies with Zeus?” Nathan Unimpressed Summers sighed, exasperated, but not impressed in the slightest. 

“We got to the same barber,” Wade shrugged. 

“Wade,” Nathan Unimpressed Summers said. “You don't have hair.” 

“Your point?” Wade asked, crossing his arms and huffing. “You're just jealous cuz all the guy's in your Barber's Quartet are probably dead now. And soon I will have suffered the same sad fate, because for some reason everyone else in this fic is an old guy with white hair.” Wade threw out his arms. “Where is the young blood?!” he demanded. 

“I'm not that old,” Nathan Unimpressed Summers said. 

“Yes you are,” Stryfe countered, looking up and glaring through his dripping wet white hair. 

“Then you're old, too, because you're the same age as me,” Nathan Unimpressed Summers pointed out.

“I am not old!” Stryfe protested, getting to his feet furiously and stalking forwards, grabbing Nate's collar. 

Nathan Unimpressed Summers gave him an unimpressed look. “Then neither am I, because we're the same age.” 

“NOW WE'RE NOT,” Stryfe roared. “BECAUSE TIME TRAVEL!” 

“My head hurts already!” Wade whined. “Keep your stupid time travel confusing shit outta my fics, damn it!” 

“Your head probably hurts because there's an arrow through your head, Wade,” Nathan Unimpressed Summers told him, unimpressed. 

“THERE'S A WHAT THROUGH MY WHAT?!” Wade cried, reaching up to his head and pulling the arrow out, looking at it in surprise. 

His face turned murderous. “HAWKEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEE!” he yelled furiously, turning around and taking off running, waving the bloodied arrow furiously. “I AM GOING TO STICK THIS RIGHT THROUGH ONE OF YOUR STUPID EYES AND OUT THE OTHER SIDE OF YOUR BRAINPAN! SEE HOW WELL YOU CAN SEE THEN!” 

“It wasn't me!” Clint Barton cried, his head appearing from out of a dumpster. There was a banana peel on his head. “Whatever it was, it wasn't me!” 

From a nearby roof, a girl with long black hair, purple sunglasses and dressed in purple spandex giggled quietly to herself. “Who's the real Hawkeye now, huh?” 

“KATIE!” Clint yelled furiously as he ran down the alley, Wade hard on his heels. “I AM SO GETTING YOU BACK FOR THIS!” 

“I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY!” she yelled after him, before pressing button on her earpiece and saying, “Alright, Tommy, I'm ready to go.” 

There was a blur of green, and she was gone. 

“KATIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!” Clint cried, skidding into another alley and diving into the dumpster, closing the lid and holding his breath (partly so Wade wouldn't hear, and partly because the dumpster stank). 

Wade started walking down the alley, whistling a creepy song loudly, only to pause when he heard the sound of the ice cream truck. 

“ICE SCREAM!” Wade cried in delight, his face lighting up as he sprinted out of the alley and started running after the ice cream truck. “I WANT A CAPSICLE!” 

When the coast was clear, Clint carefully opened the dumpster lid and glanced around, before climbing out, shaking plastic wrappers and rotten apple cores out of his hoodie before slinking off, muttering under his breath. “The girl's good, I'll giver her that…”

* * *

Meanwhile, Nathan Unimpressed Summers and JUST STRYFE, THANKS were staring at each other. 

“Do you want to go get a drink?” Nathan Unimpressed Summers asked, finally. 

“...” JUST STRYFE, THANKS said. “Sure. Friendly brotherly drinking contest?” 

“Brotherly drinking contest, yes,” Nathan Unimpressed Summers said, turning and leading the way, JUST STRYFE, THANKS clinking and shlooping after him in his armor and water-filled boots. “Friendly? Not so much.” 

Stryfe grinned. “I like the way you think.” 

“Well, your brain is composed of the same brain material as mine,” Nathan Unimpressed Summers shrugged, hands in his pockets. 

“I am SO drinking you under the table,” JUST STRYFE, THANKS growled at him. 

“We'll put the test,” Nathan Unimpressed Summers said, thoroughly unimpressed.

* * *

Meanwhile, Wade bit off his Capsicle's head. 

His eyes widened. “BRAIN FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE!” he shrieked. “SINCE WHEN IS CAPTAIN AMERICA/ICEMAN A LEGIT PAIRING?!” 

“If you don't shut up I'm gonna cut yer head off, bub,” Logan said, leaning against the wall in a plaid shirt and a cowboy hat pulled low, chewing on a toothpick. 

“Wolvie!” Wade grinned, licking a stripe up his Capsicle's chest. (GUYS IT'S A POPSICLE IT'S NOT EROTIC AT ALL QUELL YOUR DIRTY MINDS.) “What brings you here?! Shouldn't you be at the X-Mansion teaching little X-Children or something?” 

“I was never cut out to be a teacher,” Logan grumbled. 

“Then what do you want to be?” Wade asked with a grin, nipping and sucking at his Capsicle's shoulder. (MINDS OUT OF THE GUTTERS, GUYS. IT'S JUST A POPSICLE, REMEMBER?) “A ninja? A sexy flight attendant? A porn star?”

“No,” Logan grunted, snapping the toothpick between his teeth. “I want to be… a Lumberjack!” 

And then Logan pushed himself off the wall and started dancing, singing, “I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay! I sleep all night and I work all day!” 

Wade's tongue was hanging out in surprise. He quickly recovered and slurped it back into his mouth. “Uh, hate to break it to ya, Wolvie, but you're in the wrong country,” he said. “This is the United States of America, and we ain't got no lumberjacks! You might want to try Canada.” 

Logan paused, tilting his head to the side. “Who's Canada?” 

An invisible person next to them said quietly, almost sadly: “I'm Canada...” 

Neither of them noticed—Wade was showing Logan a map on his StarkPhone, and Logan was grunting, and then stalking up to go steal a motorcycle to ride up north to the Forgotten Land of Maple Leaves. 

Wade went back to sucking on his Capsicle.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> i think i need help
> 
> guys i'm not always this crazy i promise


End file.
